


That's not my name

by gulpygrif



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Confusion, F/F, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Medical stuff, Modern Girl in Thedas, Non-Linear Narrative, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 04:38:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11051496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gulpygrif/pseuds/gulpygrif
Summary: Modern-girl in Thedas. When an emergency doctor gets thrown into the chaos of the Inquisition, she will find herself becoming a go-to gal for more than just her medical knowledge.Kinda just a side story, all for funsies. Definitely won't be linear, definitely not my canon story.





	That's not my name

The first thing she remembers is how to breath. How to let her lungs expand to bring in air, and how to let that air back out. The feelings that come with the first breath are cold and as sharp as a knife, piercing her throat even as she exhales. The ragged cough that follows is straining, to say the least. There is damage, of that, she has no doubt.

The second thing she remembers is how to move. A small twitch of muscle to pull on her bones in just the right way that her fingers lift, that her head cranes to the side. She feels soreness aching in every part of her body. She feels her fingers wrap around soft fabric, her toes numb from the same piercing cold she pulls in with every breath. 

The third thing she remembers is how to hear. A loud ringing, a startled cry, screams, snow crunching beneath her, a voice beside her that she can’t quite understand. The speech is garbled, she doesn’t remember how to understand, perhaps, or maybe her ears weren’t working quite right.

It feels like she is bouncing, but not in the bouncy-house fun way, it’s harsh up and down on top cobblestone like falling off a bike and bouncing on the street. Her stomach lurches. There’s something hard beneath her, something covered in soft cloth but with sharp edges. She wondered briefly what it could be, but a racking headache pulls her thoughts away to only pain and numb limbs. The pain doesn’t subside, but when whatever is under her shifts, her face no longer rests on sharp edges.

A concussion, she thinks. Perhaps a spinal injury as well, considering she can’t feel her lower extremities, though again, that could just be the bitter cold. She can’t see either, and she wonders if her eyes are even opening like they should.

She makes herself groan, a small whisper of how she feels mumbled into the cloth beneath her face. _At least I can do that much_ she thinks.

“Ruth!” A voice calls suddenly, and it splits her head in two. Loud, shrill, panicked. _Who is Ruth?_

The name is repeated over and over, she feels someone touch her shoulder, a gentle squeeze and then they let go. Someone drapes something on top of her, a blanket perhaps, but it’s thin and the wind she feels at her back still bites.

Her heart is still pounding in her ears when she drifts back into unconsciousness. 

 

_”Marina, can you grab the gifts?”_

_“What do I look like, your servant?” Even as she speaks, Marina pulls the bundle of boxes covered in patterned paper from the trunk, a smirk lifting the corner of her lips. She is joking of course, and her mother knows it, or she should, anyway. Twenty-six years of dealing with these kinds of comments would get anyone used to them._

_They share a look as Marina gracefully steps past her mother, a bag filled to the brim with wrapped packages slung across her shoulder. “Since I am carrying them, I get the credit!”_

_Her mother scoffs, “Not for those cookies! I slaved over those.” She waves a chastising finger, her painted nails a red streak in the air. She’s dressed far too fanciful for the occasion, a simple gift exchange and dinner with her children and she wears a fancy red gown and pearls? She’s always been that way though, and after years of arguments, Marina and her mother had finally agreed to disagree on their fashion tastes._

_It had been a surprisingly big step in their relationship._

_Marina steps for the door, rings the bell and waits, pulling her fingerless gloves off and tucking them into her jacket pocket. Her siblings are all already inside, probably drinking all the spiked egg-nog without her. She really hoped this wasn’t a repeat of last year’s disaster._

_The door opens and her sister steps into view, blonde hair pulled into a tight bun and a traditional ‘ugly sweater’ adorning her torso. A rather lewd santa was stitched onto the front, a full view of the bearded man’s ass and dangly bits greeted her._

_“Disgusting, Carrie.”_

_“Ruth!”_

_Ruth? Who was Ruth?_

_Marina looked back at her mother who juggled a bag of groceries and a crock-pot in her hands, a puzzled expression overtaking her face. She turned back to her sister, looking for an answer, but all she saw was herself. Her face was staring back at her, a shocked expression she was sure was reflected._

_“Demon!” Her reflection lunged for her, and suddenly it was just the two of her. There were no ugly sweaters, no crock-pots, no pearls, just anger and shock and confusion._

_“Demon! Stealing my face! Give it back!”_

_What was going on?! “What are you-”_

_“I will not fall for your tricks you-”_

 

“Ruth!”

Marina gasped, eyes flying open as she sat up startled. She was breathing heavy, and after the shock of waking, the pain hit her like a freight train.

She groaned, holding a hand carefully to her forehead as if that would stop it all. The blinding light, the bitter cold, she awful smell, the pain. All of her hurt, everything down to her pinky toe.

How could she have possibly hurt her toes?

“You’re awake!”

Marina glanced carefully to her right, trying to understand what was happening. 

A young woman, no older than twenty sat beside her, hair fiery red and brown eyes brimming with tears. Marina couldn’t quite focus on her features at the moment, the light was too bright, or more likely, her eyes were too sensitive.

Either way, she did not recognize the voice.

“Ruth, thank the Maker! I was so worried!” The woman reached out and gave Marina’s arm a quick squeeze before she groaned in protest and the redhead let go and mumbled out nervous apologies.

Marina waved her hand dismissively, giving herself a moment to adjust to her environment before asking the woman anything. She was sitting on some sort of makeshift bed, probably a field hospital then, and she smelled blood in the air (a smell she had only become familiar with since working in the hospital). There was a lot of noise around her, and with her lack of focus it was hard to make out any specifics, but she was pretty sure there were a lot of people in pain. Or perhaps… a bloody orgy.

Moaning had two interpretations, afterall.

But, where had she been before this? 

Where was this?

She tried to ask the woman beside her, but all that came out was an unfamiliar croak. Marina coughed and tried again with little luck.

“Oh! Water! I have some...” the woman reached for her hip, and Marina only now could see enough to notice what the woman was wearing. A shiny metal suit with a flaming sword emblem on its front and a skirt of some sort. Had she been dropped in a renaissance fair? 

She really needed some answers.

The woman pulled some sort of waterskin from her waist and handed it over, carefully placing it in Marina’s hands before looking expectantly at her. She reminded Marina vaguely of her red haired poodle at home, wagging it’s tail waiting for a treat.

Marina inspected the waterskin in her hand and carefully popped it open, tilting it back until some water ran into her mouth. She had never drank from one of these before, so of course, she got half the water on herself, but she did try to drink it all. She was far more thirsty than she had realized. 

“Where-” she coughed, clearing her throat of dryness before continuing. “Where are we?” She handed over the waterskin as the woman looked at her worriedly.

“You don’t remember?”

“Would I ask if I did?” She sniffed, glancing around the room as she got a better look at her surroundings. With the light no longer bothering her eyes, she could see a lot more.

She was in some sort of open tent, hundreds of people lined in beds and on the floor, bleeding, if not dead. Outside looked snowy and, from what she could tell, there were three groups of people here. Half of the tent people wore dresses, and the other half, shiny armor with the same sword symbol. In between, the nurses, Marina assumed, rushed back and forth between the beds with blood staining their coats.

“We’re in the Frostbacks, Ruth. Haven. Remember?”

“Ruth?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you keep calling me Ruth?”

She gave a nervous chuckle, brushing a strand of her red hair behind her ear, “Because it’s your name?”

“My name- that’s not my name. Where is the Frostbacks?”

“The healer said you might be confused. I should get them, they can-”

Marina grabbed the woman’s arm before she could rise. “I suspect I have a concussion, but it’s not severe. If I get sick and puke my guts on you, then call the doctor, but until then, where are the Frostbacks?”

The woman frowned, but remained seated, “Between Orlais and Ferelden? It separates the territories… You don’t remember?” 

Marina had never heard of Orlais or Ferelden, and definitely not the Frostbacks. She should really get more familiar with geography.

“Okay... where is Maryland from here?”

The woman didn’t answer at first, giving her a puzzled look. “Mary?”

“No, Maryland. The state, you know? America?” Marina watched the girl tilt her head in confusion and sighed, “You know, United States of America? U.S.A.?

“Usa? What are you talking about?”

“Okay, cut the shit man. I don’t know if this is some renaissance fair or something but I seriously don’t know where I am. Cut the act for a second, will you?” 

“I should really find someone to-” 

“Will you just listen for a second!” Marina waited for the woman to nod before continuing, “If you can’t tell me where we are, do you know how I got hurt? Where’d I hit my head?”

The woman frowned, “The temple, Ruth… it’s gone.”

A temple, the temple. Marina tried to wrack her brain for any sort of temple where she lived. There was a church? A few churches, maybe even a mosque of something. Okay, but Marina didn’t believe in that stuff, so why would she be a temple? Was she called in for an emergency? Had there been some sort of disaster? 

She couldn’t remember anything.

“Okay, so how did I hit my head?”

“You… the explosion-”

“Hold up, what explosion?”

“The temple, Ruth, it just… blew up. Demons are everywhere, it’s horrible. The mages… they must have done something to the Divine, I can’t believe-”

“Savannah! We have to go!” A man called out from behind them. Marina tried to get a look to see who it was, but by the time she managed to look around, he was gone.

“I’ll get someone to help you, I have to go.” The woman rose from the chair and gave Marina a pat on the shoulder again. “We’ll be back soon.”

“Wait, no I need you to-- and they’re gone…” Marina sighed, letting herself lie back against the cot. She needed to sort out her thoughts.

Okay, Frostbacks, Ferelden, Orlais? Frostbacks sounded like mountains, or somewhere near mountains. A town? Haven? The Divine? None of this sounded familiar in the least. And demons? Marina had no idea what to think of that comment. She pushed the new information aside and tried to think of what she already knew.

So what did Marina remember? She remembered… waking up in the afternoon, after a late shift at the hospital. Was that yesterday? She had made herself a coffee, called her sister about her niece's birthday party that weekend… then she called work? She was… no they called her. An emergency had come up, they needed her as soon as possible. So she had rushed in, took the bus to get there quicker. Why did she take the bus? The car was being repaired, right… so she took the bus, and… she couldn’t recall what… after that blank. She just… Cold, she remembered being cold, and in pain, and now she was so tired. So, _so_ tired. 

She needed to stay awake, needed to until she knew for sure she was safe. If she had a severe concussion she could die in her sleep. She took a deep breath and wiggled her toes before swinging her legs out of the cot. She was wearing some uncomfortable pants, brown, and made from a scratchy material. There was a gash in the thigh, but no visible laceration upon further inspection. There was however, a unfamiliar scar.

She didn’t remember having a scar there.

Marina frowned, taking a moment to look at all her limbs. There were unfamiliar scars _everywhere_ and none of her normal marks she knew. The circular scar on her knuckle from falling off her bike? Gone. The rogue scratches she had received along her arms from her cat? Gone. The large burn on her forearm from her baking class in 10th grade. Gone.

In their place were countless gashes, tears, and burns covering her limbs. The only familiar thing was the little birthmark that wrapped around her right wrist, but everything else? She had no idea where it came from.

Marina began to panic. What did this mean? How had she gotten here? How had she changed?

What was going on?


End file.
